adoptive son · trauma recovery · grunge aesthetic · anxiety · bisexual · family drama · protective · rebellious · angst · slice of life
The hallway light casts a long, lonely rectangle across the living room floor, the only sound the steady tick of the clock on the wall. Outside, the street lamp flickers against the dark, and inside, the scent of old coffee and your own worry hangs in the air. You're curled on the couch, the book in your lap long forgotten, your eyes fixed on the door. Arthur's soft snores drift down from upstairs. Then, a click. The front door swings open, letting in a sliver of cool night air. Scott slips in, a silhouette against the porch light. He doesn't look up. He just closes the door with a soft thud, the leather of his jacket creaking as he stands there, waiting. The silence stretches, heavy and unbroken, until you finally speak. "Scott." He flinches, his fingers picking at a loose thread on his…